


In so much, as without

by I__A



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bottom Ethan Nestor, Fluff, How do you tag for multiple WIPs???, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Top Mark Fischbach, multiple AUs, uhhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I__A/pseuds/I__A
Summary: Abandoned WIPs (mostly ethan/mark-focused). If people are interested in a particular work I’ll finish it and publish it on its own, but as it stands they’ll probably remain unfinished. Ratings will vary.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [one hell of a year](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013917) by [babyhandsnestor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyhandsnestor/pseuds/babyhandsnestor). 
  * Inspired by [Weird Autumn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28410105) by [ChilledLime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChilledLime/pseuds/ChilledLime). 



Um, hi.

So... It’s been a while since I’ve had the motivation to finish any of my WIPs, especially since most of my works don’t end up gaining much traction. That’s mostly my fault, I’m sorry.

As a result, I’ve compiled as many works as I could and I’ll be publishing them as unfinished one-shots here. If people like a certain work, I’ll delete it from here and finish it to post as a stand-alone work. If people don’t like a certain work, it’ll remain here, unfinished and abandoned most likely.

Like the description says, most of the stories are Mark/Ethan-centric, with a few background ships as well.

  * As of October 4th, all ships and characters mentioned have not been updated in the tags. Future edits will be made.



Since the works are incomplete and if you take an interest in a story, you can also suggest what direction the story can take (as well as request what ship I should put in). My one stipulation is that I won’t write Mark/Sean, and I’m hesitant to write about Sean at all. Not that I won’t write Sean, I’ll just hesitate a lot. I’m not familiar with writing his character, nor do I have a desire to write him in general. As for the ship, I’m not particularly fond of Mark/Sean (though I’m more open to write Felix/Sean). Everything else is free game, I suppose (even more so if I’m familiar with them).

Because some WIPs are more complete than others, the lengths of the works will vary. In general, you’ll just be reading a snippet of the work as it stands since I don’t want to give the whole story away if people want me to complete it, so the word count won’t exceed 1,500 words per chapter. After a while, if a specific work isn’t asked to be complete, I’ll post the full rough draft in the future.

The formatting is written like this (“ **Title** ” - **AU** \- **Main Pairing** ; **Any additional pairing** (s) - **Rating** \- **Description** ). The descriptions provided are written below verbatim as I had written them at the time of creation.

This list will likely change in the future as I finish rough drafts for other WIPs, but as of right now here is the table of contents:

  1. “dirty sheets” - 1990s Band AU - Mark/Ethan; Felix/Marzia/Sean, Marzia/Signe - E 
    1. teenagers are stupid. adults, even dumber. When keyboardist Signe Hansen disappears from her band under mysterious circumstances, it’s up to long-time fan and high school drop-out Ethan Nestor to solve the case. As he dives further and further into Signe’s lifestyle Ethan finds himself surrounded by money, fame, drugs and alcohol. It’s all-consuming.
  2. ”handle with care” - High School AU - Marzia & Ethan; Mark/Ethan - T 
    1. be careful with his heart (he’s been hurt too many times). look out for her smile (she’s brighter than any star in the sky). //Mark and Ethan get together. And they fall apart. Marzia is there to pick up what remains and put Ethan together again.
  3. ”me gustas tu” - No AU - Mark/Ethan; Mark/Amy (mentioned) - E 
    1. Mark and Ethan love each other in the summer. (It’s an unconventional type of love, but they make it work.)
  4. ”Careless People” - The Great Gatsby AU - Marzia/Felix; Sean/Gab, Sean/Marzia, Ethan/Felix - M* 
    1. It’s the summer of 1923. Aspiring photographer Ethan Nestor moves to New York in search of his big break. Instead, he finds himself in the midst of secret love affairs, loose speakeasies, and a murder investigation.
  5. ”devotion is a painful process” - Gods & Goddess AU - Mark/Ethan/Marzia, Mark/Ethan, Marzia/Ethan; Marzia/Felix, Marzia/Signe, Mark/Amy - E* 
    1. The sun god and the moon goddess fall in love with a stripper. They deal with their emotions somehow.
  6. ”another” - High School AU - Mark/Ethan - M* 
    1. Ethan and Mark, high school sophomore and senior respectively, are tired of being stuck in a cycle together. They blame each other.
  7. ”Snowglobe City” - Dystopian AU - Signe/Marzia; Marzia/Felix, Mark/Amy, Mark/Ethan, Marzia & Ethan, Felix & Ethan, Marzia/Felix/Signe - T 
    1. (No description; The following is an excerpt.) “ _Her hair flowed with the cold winter’s wind, free from its confines of the usual rose bun she always wore it in. Everything Signe touched burned except for her, an untouchable statue made of cold marble.”_
  8. ”love letters from me to you, in the future” - Soulmate Reincarnation AU - Mark/Ethan; TBA - T 
    1. It’s a hard conversation to have, considering none of this is real.
  9. ”Jekyll & Hyde” - Jekyll & Hyde AU - Signe/Marzia; Marzia/Felix, Ethan & Tyler - E* 
    1. (sic) You, you, you... always searching for you.
  10. ”Social Unrest” - Danganronpa AU - Signe/Marzia, Signe/Ethan; TBA - M* 
    1. (No description; The following is an excerpt.) ” _I extend an arm out, and open my eyes for what seems to be the first time in a long while, hoping that someone -_ anyone _\- will take hold of my being._ ”
  11. ”Boundless” - Reincarnation AU - Sean/Gab, Mark/Ethan, PJ/Sophie, Signe/Marzia, Felix/Marzia; Sean & Felix, Marzia/Ethan, Ethan/Amy, PJ & Chris, Signe & Emma, Felix & Ethan - E* 
    1. “Our lives are not out own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.” Six generations of love. Inspired by “Cloud Atlas”.



If there’s a specific prompt you’d like to see, or if you’d like for me to write a work for you, please feel free to comment on this chapter. I’ll do my best to update in a timely manner (although what “timely manner” means is up for debate...)

Thank you for taking your time to read all of this! Hopefully I’ll see you again in the future :)

* * *

*The work itself, if finished, will contain content that warrants this rating. As of right now, however, the rating stands at a T and below.


	2. “dirty sheets” - 1990s band au - Mark/Ethan - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt is taken from the original first chapter in this multi-chaptered work. At the time of writing, there are three drafts for a first chapter. This chapter was written when Ethan and Mika were still together. Keep that in mind as you read on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original) Trigger warning: child neglect

**Chapter One: all i ever hear is the same damn thing**

“Oh fuck, r-right there! H-Harder,  _ please! _ ”

“You’ll take what you’re given, bitch.”

Ethan lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, clenching tighter around the hot, thick cock pistoning in and out of his body. Mark’s hips sputter in their rhythm, and he lets out an animalistic growl before snapping his hips faster into Ethan’s wet heat. Ethan feels his eyes roll back into his head as he’s  _ finally _ getting what he asked for, finally feels Mark press harder into his body, hitting his prostate with every snap of his hips.

“God, are you trying to squeeze my dick off? You’re so goddamn tight.”

Mark slaps the round globes he’s fucking into and revels in their jiggle. Ethan falls forward to the bed with every slap, his arms finally giving out beneath him from holding the weight of his body up for so long. Mark holds his hips up as he continues to fuck into him with vigor; Ethan knows he’ll have purple bruises on his hips in the morning.

Drool slips from his lips, joining the sweat, cum and tears dripping from his face - as much as he wanted Mark to cum down his throat the man jerked off his seed all over his tear-stained face before deciding to ram two fingers into Ethan in one go, distracting the younger man enough that he decided he didn’t care about the mess Mark left on his face, no, in fact, he  _ wanted _ Mark to make a mess out of him - and onto the white sheets underneath. He fists the sheets when Mark rubs his ass gently after the rough treatment; the sensation is too overwhelming on his sensitive skin. 

“So pretty,” he hears Mark mutter. “Such a good  _ slut _ .” He accentuates the last word with a particularly hard thrust. Ethan shakes his head.

“‘M not a slut,” he protests. “Yours.”

“That’s right.” Mark slips out of him. Ethan whines at the loss but doesn’t have much time to protest as he’s flipped on his back and Mark re-enters in one swoop. He gasps and reaches out to hold on to Mark’s arms as he begins his brutal pace again. “You're  _ my _ slut.”

“Yours!” Ethan throws his head back and digs his feet into the mattress. He’s close - he can feel the pressure building up higher and higher, driving his body to release. He grinds back into Mark’s thrusts and clenches against his dick again, eager to chase their release together. Mark lets out a long-drawn groan.

“Fuck! Ethan!”

“Mark!”

_ “Ethan!” _

* * *

“Ethan!”

His world falls apart. Ethan’s eyes shoot open just in time to see the floor come up to greet him.

“OW!”

He bumps head-first on the carpeted bedroom floor. Ethan groans and sits up, rubbing his head with his arm.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Mika’s face is the second thing that greets him, hair and makeup already done, pyjamas still on - it’s seven-something in the morning, if Mika’s crazy-frigid schedule is still the same.

“What the fuck, Mi.”

“Sorry to be a buzzkill.” Her eyes fall, unimpressed, to the wet spot on the front of his boxers. Ethan rips the blanket off the bed and tries to save the little dignity he has left after his best friend caught him in the middle of a  _ fucking wet dream _ . “I’ve been calling you forever, Eth. You need to get out of my apartment before your parents forget they have a kid to feed.” 

“Can’t you just make me something to eat?” he complains half-heartedly. “Your pancakes taste  _ way _ better than the ones at my place…”

“What am I, your maid? Get the hell out of my house.” 

“Get out of my room so I can get done.” He wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk. “I mean, unless you wanna lend me a hand-”

“God! Just, don’t fall back asleep!”

Mika slams the door behind her, leaving Ethan to his own devices (never a wise choice). Ethan laughs at her frustrated expression and removes the blanket from his bare body.

“What a mood killer,” he sighs. “And it was such a nice dream.” He looks down at his crotch - yeah, his boxers are definitely ruined, his dick now hanging boneless against his hip. “Aw, these were the only clean ones left at her place. Bummer.”

Opting to go commando, he slips the sticky piece of fabric of his thin legs, silently lamenting the lack of bruises on his legs, and throws the briefs into the hamper. With a bit of rummaging around Mika’s room he finds a clean pair of jeans and one of her oversized university sweaters to throw on. Due to his lanky figure it falls a bit too big on his torso but he’s too lazy to find a sweater in a smaller size. 

Satisfied, he makes a short trip from the bedroom to the bathroom to quickly rinse his face and brush a hand through his hair before finding his way to the small kitchenette where Mika, also in jeans and a sweater, is toasting waffles. 

She raises an eyebrow at his outfit. “Is that my sweater?”

“I forgot to do laundry.” He snatches a plate already set with waffles. “Thanks for breakfast, M.”

“Those were mine, you fucking bitch.” She smacks him on the arm. “You owe me.”

“You were gonna starve me!”

“As if you need to lose any more weight.” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously dude, eat something at school. You look like a skeleton in that sweater.”

“It's the style,” he huffs, bottom lips pouting. “I’m sorry you're too much of a fashion inept to get it.”

“We’re wearing the same outfit!” Mika shakes her head, setting another plate of waffles for herself. “Whatever. I'm not the one rutting into the bed at six in the morning because I’m dreaming about getting it on with the drummer.”

“Mark’s the  _ guitarist _ , Mi,” Ethan protests. 

“Right,  _ guitarist _ , my bad.” She rolls her eyes. “Didn't peg you for a bottom, Nestor, though it makes sense - you're too bony to screw anyone. You probably got a skinny dick or something.”

“Suck my dick, it's plenty big,” he spoke through a mouthful of waffle. “And you never peg me no matter how much I ask.”

“Sorry, I prefer bigger tits.” She glances at the microwave - the only clock in the apartment - “You better get rolling. Your bus leaves in five minutes. I want you to at least  _ try _ to show up for your second class, please. It’s your final year.”

“Get off my dick and let me do what I need to do, then.” He wolfs down the last waffle and makes a quick beeline for his shoes, trying to drown out Mika’s lecturing.

“Funny, I thought you _wanted_ me on it.” She crosses her arms across her chest. “Your parents might not give a shit but _I_ do. Don't you want to attend the same university as me?”

“Of course I do.” He slips on his shoes. “But please Mika,” he looks at her pointedly, “don't try and act like I can't get it with failing grades.” He walks out the apartment and into the outside world, the cool autumn morning air a relief against the smoke-filled apartment from last night's session. “I’ll see you later.”

“Ethan-!”

He runs down the metal stairs and into the urban morning setting before Mika could say anything else.

* * *

He walks in the front door and goes straight for his backpack, not bothering to look at his mother making breakfast in the kitchen as he slugs the bag he left at the dining room table over his shoulder.

“Ethan?” his mother calls. “I thought you left already?”

“Forgot my bag.”

“Oh.” 

She doesn't say anything after that - not that Ethan expected her to. She didn't care where he was or who he was with - as long as he… No, there were no more expectations for him at home, Ethan realizes as he stops to watch his mother set the table for two people and no more; the only person who cared enough to  _ have _ expectations for him was Mika.

He glances at the pictures adorned on the walls on his way out - wedding day pictures, portraits of his mother and father together laughing, smiling,  _ happy _ . Nothing has changed in their relationship - it was always fresh, new and exciting, a wilderness to explore, riches to be uncovered, mysteries to be solved. Mr. and Mrs. Nestor completed each other - there was no need for anyone else. 

Mr. and Mrs. Suburban-Town, USA, parents of fuck-up Angst Teen McGee, always reminiscent of his golden years in his infancy when he was too young to comprehend the fact that his parents wanted nothing to do with him - a former straight-A student until the world swallowed him up and spit him back out, the shell of a bright child. Marred in acne scars and drowning in the stench of weed and cheap beer - when the going got tough, when he suddenly stopped trying in school and dropped out of all club activities in favor of running with the big kids and all his parents would say “We get it. It's hard to be the best all the time. High school is hard to navigate. We won't ask for anything more,” - Ethan Nestor fucked his life up as much as he could in hopes that his parents would pay attention to him.

It's not like he's had the worst home life, if he's being honest - surely, other parents would hit their children for no longer bringing home all As, other parents would abuse the shit out of their children for no other reason than they just could. He's fed decently - when he bothers to come home to eat meals, that is. His parents never hit him, or scold him - but they certainly never pay attention to him either. Ethan’s mother will sometimes make passing remarks: “You grew up so fast.” His father, too: “You’re taller than I remember.” But Ethan ends up frustrated at their comments all the same - he's growing up without his parents.

Ethan stomps out the driveway, crushing the neatly-trimmed lawn under his shoes. They’re the perfect image of a traditional American husband and wife - with a too-thin teenage boy tacked on as an afterthought.

He wishes his mother would yell at him for ruining her petunias as he cuts along her garden.

* * *

The day passes by uneventfully. 

“Ethan!”

“‘Sup?”

He dumps his backpack on the lunch table, blunt and lighter at hand as the others look on with a dazed expression;  _ They've started without me. _

Morgan untangles herself from Brian in order to paw at Ethan’s bag. He unzips the back pocket halfway. She squeals at the sight of the telltale neon yellow and takes out a bag of chips.

“You're not eating?” Dodie’s eyebrows are scrunched together, and Ethan wants to laugh. They look like two caterpillars trying to kiss.

“Not hungry. Brian’s face ruined my appetite.”

“Fuck off.”


	3. “handle with care” - High School AU - Marzia & Ethan; Mark/Ethan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Description:
> 
> be careful with his heart (he’s been hurt too many times).
> 
> look out for her smile (she’s brighter than any star in the sky).
> 
> high school au. Mark and Ethan get together. And they fall apart. Marzia is there to pick up what remains and put Ethan together again (it's meant to be platonic but hey, i'm not here to say anything)

Ethan’s presence in the Bisognin household is never an unwelcome one; a surprise, sure, considering the fact that the first time he shows up unannounced is on a cold Sunday morning, if the haunting red LED of Marzia’s alarm flashing 3:05 AM is to be believed, sporting nothing but a thin fleece jacket, a scarf, mittens, and worn winter boots; but never unwelcome. 

“Marzia!” he shouts from the front lawn of her house - her bedroom overlooking the well-to-do neighborhood from the second floor on Ethan’s right - careful to not alert her parents sleeping away right across her hall. After shouting her names a few more times with no reply, Ethan resorts to throwing pebbles at her window (praying to whatever god out there that he was wimpy enough to not break her windows, or at the very least that Marzia’s parents were merciful enough to not press charges against him).

Thankfully, god is merciful, and a bleary-eyed Marzia appears at the window after the second pebble bounces back to the ground. Her brown hair is all cow-licks and tangles - an adorable sight after seeing her all dolled up in the few months Ethan has known her.

“Ethan?” she yawns. “It's three in the morning on a  _ Sunday _ .”

“I know!” He grins up at her, unaffected by her grumpy disposition. “Guess what?”

“Can’t it wait until morning?” Marzia rubbed her eyes against the snow-white light reflecting off the blanket of snow Ethan stood happily on, giddy with excited energy - a very clear constraint compared to Marzia’s sleepy and dark den, her warm comforter practically  _ begging  _ her to crawl back inside until mid-morning. “You're lucky Puga’s deaf.”

“But this is super _importante_!” Ethan argued. “Please?”

Marzia weighed her options. On one hand, she could shut the window on Ethan and go back to sleep and deal with his whining reprimands at their weekly brunch dates later on in the day with a very grumpy Felix and a sleep-deprived Mark in tow to counteract their hyper-ness Marzia and Ethan seem to possess. On the other hand, what could possibly be so important to the young boy that he felt the need to share with her at such an ungodly hour on the worst day of the week?

Her curiosity won over. “Okay,” she sighs again, rubbing her eyes with one hand and shooing Ethan with the other. Ethan pumps his fists in the air. “Give me a second and I’ll let you in. I do not need my boyfriend’s friends dying on my front lawn.”

“Yes! Thank you Mar-Mar!”

No more than five minutes later, Ethan finds himself sitting on Marzia’s bed wrapped up in two pink throw blankets with a very pretty and pouty Marzia snuggled next to him, yawning but trying very hard not to fall asleep on the nook in between his shoulder and his head.

(And if his heart was beating just a little bit more quickly than when he first showed up, he could just chalk it up to simply being in the overwhelming presence of the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on who just invited him to sleep over at her house on her bed with the promise of a big stack of his favorite pancakes and her soft smiles at their weekly Sunday brunch after a good night’s rest.) 

“Okay,” she yawns for the upteenth time, effectively pulling Ethan out of his own thoughts. “What’s so important that you woke me up in the middle of the night?”

“Ah!” Ethan’s cheeks flamed up, a smile lighting up his face like a Christmas tree. “Mark asked me to be his boyfriend!”

All sleep escaped Marzia. Her eyes popped comically wide open, that signature twinkle of mischief returning tenfold at the news. “Oh my god! What? That’s great! I’m so excited for you!” The duo fell into a fit of giggles. Marzia threw her arms around the younger boy with the widest grin on her face. “How did this happen? Did he ask you just now? You  _ have _ to tell me.”

And he did.

* * *

“Hey, Eth?”

“Yeah?”


	4. “me gustas tu” - No AU - Mark/Ethan; Mark/Amy (mentioned) - M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Description:
> 
> Mark and Ethan love each other in the summer.
> 
> (It’s an unconventional type of love, but they make it work).

(sic) It’s sweltering.

Hot, fiery passion - their breaths mingle in the warm air, enclosed in the other’s embrace.

Ethan’s nails claw over the expanse of Mark’s bare back. Mark lets out a guttural groan that only serves to rile the fiery pits of their guts more - Ethan whimpering as he rubs his legs together, humping into Mark’s stomach while Mark pulls his hips closer to his own, slapping his ass in the process.

“M-more, more, more,” Ethan chants like a mantra. He tilts his head back, lips searching lips. He's not close enough,  _ they're  _ not close enough - though thin layers of cotton summer clothing have been peeled back, baring their naked bodies to each other, and though they were clawing and marking each other with scratches and bites - it still isn't enough.

Thankfully, Mark is more than happy to give himself to Ethan.

He swallowed every moan, every breath leaving Ethan’s lips with open-mouthed kisses, tongue trailing over every orifice of his mouth, imprinting himself on the younger man. He felt the animalistic urge to break the boy into submission, feel his body quiver underneath him as he pounded deeper and deeper into their climax.

For now, he made quick work of unraveling the boy beneath him, one hand snaking from his ass to his cock and rubbing their dicks together in his fist.

(sic)

* * *

It's sweltering.

“Open a goddamn window,” Mark grumbles into Ethan’s hair, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he pushes his bare body away, tearing the cool cotton sheets off. 

“You do it, you're closer,” comes Ethan’s sleepy reply, arms refusing to give up their hold on the older man.

Mark groans - his arms and legs feel like jelly. He can't imagine that Ethan is going to be any better once he registers the aches in his muscles. Maybe they went too far last night, but the light feeling of satisfaction and relaxation begs to differ; he's never been so at peace.

He opens his eyes slowly, one by one, and drinks in the sight of Ethan sleeping in the morning sunlight. His dark eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, lips pursed down into a small pout, skin soft and pliable, purple love bits littering exposed skin as far as the eye can see. Mark can't help but lean forward and press and kiss into his eyelids. Ethan hums with a smile creeping up on his face.

A car alarm blares in the background, disturbing this quiet moment of peace. Ethan grumbles and tucks his head underneath a pillow, and Mark’s never been more in love with Ethan.


	5. “Careless People” - The Great Gatsby AU - Felix/Marzia - M*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following excerpt is the second draft of the first chapter in this work. At the time of writing, there are only two versions of the first chapter. Because this is the most recently abandoned WIP, there is not much written. My bad lol

Ethan Nestor is, by no means, a wealthy man.

In fact, it is through his step-father’s generosity and his mother’s careful mending that he has a suit on his back and a small rundown cottage waiting for him along the burbank's of Long Island, New York, nestled in-between the houses of the newfound wealthy men of the city.

Through a long series of failed professions, a shaky education, and a little bit of luck, Ethan was lucky enough to land himself a job as a bank teller at the intersection of 3rd and 12th street with the help of a long-lost childhood mentor, Felix Kjellberg.

The two had been close in their youth; though Ethan lived in the middle-class neighborhoods of Maine, Felix’s parents made it habit to travel for extended periods of time through all of the neighborhoods in America, spending a particularly long summer for two years in a row right in the town Ethan grew up in. Seven years his senior, Ethan looked up to the older boy growing up. They formed an unlikely brotherhood.


	6. “devotion is a painful process” - Gods & Goddesses AU - Mark/Ethan/Marzia - E*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a more self-indulgent work. I’ll probably finish this regardless.

Like clockwork they find themselves sitting across from each other in a private booth secluded from the main stage, red lights illuminating their ethereal faces and fruity cocktails filling the space between them, once so similar yet now separated by millennials of days chasing after one another, now tired of their charades. The sun god and moon goddess have grown tired of their romping, but find themselves together once more vying for the love of a half-mortal.

She’s dressed to the nines in a soft blue dress littered with little golden stars, but in the red light of the strip club, it shines a dark neon blue, the stars twinkling and glinting as brightly as they would on the night sky. In fact, Mark is sure that if he walked out right now into the night and looked up, the sky would be missing a handful of stars; perhaps the dress is a gift from her lover, Signe, a fellow deity of the stars. Certainly, that would explain the otherworldly nature of her dress - not that she couldn't conjure something of a similar nature herself, but it was rare for the goddess to indulge in such tedious past times.

Her perfume permeates gently through the air - he’s able to pick up her signature peony and sea salt scent. Her big brown doe eyes are framed by dark dramatic lashes that brush the apples of her cheeks when she blinks - as seductive as her motions are, Marzia’s presence feels out of place in a location such as this - a gentle aura surrounded by seedy-looking bartenders, black leather couches, silver poles, and sensual red lights and red curtains. 

Her pink lips are curved up into a pearl-white smile and she observes with an amused expression as the strippers come and go, bare bodies exposed for their eyes only. She waves off any interested performer away with a flick of her wrist - even if they are in a strip club, neither of them are interested in any of the performers here save for the one who had yet to come out on stage. 

_ He’s  _ the sole reason why they find themselves all dressed up and out of place in a dingy club like this - born a half-god, half-human, forced to blend in the human world after his godly father ostracized him from his birthright in the palace of Gods. Mark doesn’t know how such a creature like Ethan ended up working nightly at an unpopular  _ strip club  _ of all places but he doesn’t complain. He has his own reservations, of course - he hates that Marzia, of all people, found Ethan before he could and enjoyed his performances far before he could; and he dislikes places like these where humans gather to do debaucherous things. The blank gazes framed by dramatic eyelashes - no doubt synthetic - and exposed skin wrapped in scanty fabrics designed to entice rather than to cover, the fruity cocktails laced with promises of drunken regrets… 

To say it's not his scene is an understatement. 

Marzia’s eyes twinkle when she manages to catch his eye - up until now he's made a concerted effort to avoid her teasing gaze. Even after all these years spent isolated from one another, she could sense when he thought of her. (He hates to admit it, but he thinks of her all the time, too.)

“Don’t be so glum, Em,” she says. “You look like you want to stab someone.”

“I can’t stand it here,” Mark groans to the goddess. “I didn’t think this would be your type of scene. You don’t look like you would fit in here.”

“Neither do you!” Marzia laughs. “You look like a fancy human businessman with your white suit!”

Mark scowls. He hadn't had the time to change his appearance from the last time he's had to use his human form. The intricate white suit felt out of place here. “It’s because of your influence that I’m even here in the first place.”

“Is it?” Marzia raises an eyebrow. “If I wasn’t married to you once upon a time ago, I would think that you’re trying to blame your pinning on me.” She traces the rim of one of the many fruity cocktails in front of her, her eyes falling to the colorful liquid. Mark follows the hypnotic trail of her porcelain fingers, transfixed at their movement. “I like him, too. Do you want to hear why?”

“As if you need a reason,” he snorts. Marzia looks at him pointedly.

“I mean it,” she insists. “I'll tell you anyway. You like my stories.”

“Only because I don't have to answer everything you say.” Marzia rolls her eyes but otherwise ignores the grumpy sun god.

“During the new moon phase,” she begins, “I decided to leave my palace and let our daughter in charge. I haven't visited the human world in centuries, nor have they bothered to see me. I know that the human astronomers are doing their best, but I wanted to see my husband Felix as well.”

_ That explains the sea salt smell, _ Mark cocks an eyebrow. Felix, god of water, often spent time in his palace deep in the Marina trench. He shouldn't be surprised that Marzia would develop her own version of the god’s signature scent. Not that he found it unpleasant - quite the contrary, he found it  _ extremely  _ pleasant - but he wasn't fond of anything related to the Earth itself. He didn't like what he couldn't see and control - he's too far away from the planet most of the time to learn from it, and as a result he's gained an almost irrational fear of the elemental gods who control what he cannot - Felix especially. 

“Does he know you're here with me?” Mark asks. 

“No,” Marzia admits. “But he suspects. Who is he to control where I go and who I am with? I love him to the end of time, but…” She sighs and looks off to the main stage. A faceless female dancer is sliding herself down the pole, but Mark knows Marzia isn't looking at her. 

“But he isn't him,” Mark finishes for her. Marzia nods.

“Anyways,” she continues, “I landed in the heart of this run down city on the coast of nowhere, alone, in the dark, cold, and unkempt at an alleyway. I'd forgotten that the last time I was here in human form I was fighting at war alongside PJ for some spat or other. My body was still scratched up and bruised, and I had nothing but threads of fabric. By human time, it's maybe four in the morning, when humans should be asleep, but a young man walking down the alley finds me instead.

“I know how human men are. Even in the Palace, there's talk among us goddesses about their notoriety, how they rape and take and force women and females to birth unwanted pregnancies, scarring them for life. Luna especially suffers from the crimes against women at the hands of men. You can imagine why even I was wary about a young man finding me alone in a dark, isolated location, my body weakened and exposed to the chilly autumn air.

“To my surprise,” she glances over at the woman still dancing on the pole, the end of her song coming to a close and her movements slowing down as a wave of dollar bills rained on her body, “I found  _ him _ . And he helped me.” She looks back to Mark with a small smile. “It's not like we need much time to heal, or medicine or remedies, but he still took time to take care of me. He was so tired, with dark circles under his eyes and a jaded expression, yet he never complained that I was a nuisance to him.”

“He really should have,” Mark interrupts her monologue. “Could’ve dissuaded you from becoming his full-time stalker.”

“It wouldn't make a difference,” Marzia disagrees. “We haven't been together in, what, three millennium? Until now, the only person you've chased is me, Mark. How does Amy feel knowing that her husband is still stuck on his counterpart?”

Mark blinks at her, his eyes wide open, until he bursts out in laughter. “Touché, my dear. But you must admit, you still love me.” Marzia giggles in response, her laughter chiming like little bells.

“Of course I do! How could I not?” The small crowd jeering around the center stage cheers as the lights dim and a familiar piano riff begins to play.  _ It's time,  _ Mark thinks offhandedly. “I love him more.”


	7. “another” - High School AU - Mark/Ethan - M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Description:
> 
> Ethan and Mark, high school sophomore and senior respectively, are tired of being stuck in a cycle together.
> 
> They blame each other.

They sit side by side, hip pressed against hip, on the rooftop of Ethan’s childhood home. With every breath, a wisp of white exhales out, forming a pale cloud in front of their lips. The dry, biting December air makes Ethan feel queasy - his lungs inhaling frost and exhaling vapor. If Mark notices he doesn’t say anything; he’s too busy staring at the snowflakes falling down the sky.

Ethan coughs. Mark pulls his eyes away from the clouds above. Their cheeks are tinted in a deep red hue. _I should’ve brought a coat_ , Mark thinks offhandedly.

“Did you hear what happened to that Danish girl?” Ethan asks. Mark shakes his head. 

“No,” he says, “I haven’t.” Ethan doesn’t look surprised, but he looks at Mark with wide eyes regardless.

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “‘S weird. Everyone at school’s been talking about it.”

“What happened?”

“She killed herself yesterday.”

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’m not sure,” Ethan sighs. “From what I heard she told another girl that she liked her and _that_ girl told her parents, who are super big huge homophobes or whatever. I guess she couldn’t handle it so she killed herself.” He shrugs again.

Mark frowns. “Do you, like, have no sympathy? Why are you telling me this like you don’t care?”

The younger boy shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know how else you want me to react, dude. Besides, it’s not like I was friends with her or anything. I just… want to talk to you.”

“About what?” he questions.

“Anything.” Ethan leans his head on Mark’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You haven’t done anything that merits an apology.”

“I don’t know. For talking about a dead lesbian, I guess.”

Mark lets out a chuckle. “What a weird thing to apologize about.”


	8. “Snowglobe City” - Dystopian AU - Marzia/Signe - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the time of writing, no description was written. The premise is that far in the future Signe lives in a snowglobe city - that is, a city encased in a globe that protects its inhabitants from the outside world after its been destroyed by human greed. Marzia is the next ruler of the megacity, and wants everyone to stay inside. Signe wants to escape and explore the outside world. A lot of things happen that prevents her from leaving.
> 
> The following excerpt is taken from a random chapter.

Marzia’s hug felt warm, secure, comforting,  _ safe _ . She held Signe close to her bosom, caressing her hair as they watched Signe’s apartment complex burn to ashes. Every tenant stuck inside was crying for help, throwing themselves off the building in order to evade the fire’s suffocating grip on their throats. Signe saw a small teddy bear fall in flames to the wet pavement; she held on to Marzia. Even though she knew that innocent people were dying at the hands of the person she loved most, she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

“You were right.” 

“About what, my dear?”

“It  _ is _ in my blood.”

Marzia placed a hand underneath Signe’s chin, tilting her head up towards her. Signe’s green eyes were filled with tears. She smiled down at her, her pale skin glowing orange against the glow of the fire. Her hair flowed with the cold winter’s wind, free from its confines of the usual rose bun she always wore it in. Everything Signe touched burned except for her, an untouchable statue made of cold marble.

“Now do you understand what I meant when I said you can’t escape your nature?” she asked. “This is why we kept you contained  _ here _ , away from anyone that had any connection to your past.  _ This _ ,” she signaled with one arm up to the burning building, the screams drowned out by the power of Marzia’s had over Signe, “is why Mark volunteered himself to keep us safe from  _ you _ .” She turned back to Signe; the tears cleared away the soot that fell to her face. “Don’t you see? Everything my family has done, and will continue to do as long as your family exists, is hide your true nature away from yourself. Signe,” Marzia shifted and sat down on her knees, her elegant white dress fluttering about until it stuck itself on the pavement, “I care about you just as much as I care about Felix, perhaps even more. But I love my country as well, and I can’t keep them safe as long as I know your family is still out there, existing only to bring the last roots of civilization down.

“Everything I do, I do to protect you, while keeping the interest of my people in mind. I don’t want to see another person like you bring an entire city down with you, killing the last remnants of what’s left of humanity. Your existence is why I have to take back political control of the kingdom---no one else knows of the connection your family has with the destruction of other snow globe cities. My family's entire purpose in this life is to keep this country safe from harm. That includes harm from you, Signe.” 

Signe threw her body against Marzia’s with all her remaining strength. She couldn’t bear to hear another word - no, she wanted it all to burn away, eat away the pain that was gnawing her from the inside out. Marzia was good - she would take it all away, she would protect her from herself, she would bring Mark back safe and sound, she  _ would _ -

Marzia held her closer, her grip tight but not suffocating. Despite her cold appearance, her pale skin blooming pink, her dress as white as the snow, she felt warm. Even if this wasn’t where she belonged, it was  _ home _ .

Signe heaved out an ungodly wail into Marzia’s shoulder, clawing at the expensive material of her clothes. Marzia didn’t mind, petting her hair softly and crooning her with a mournful melody. Appearances be damned, Signe loved this woman with all her being, and all that love wracked her body in terrible tremors - she couldn’t stop shaking. She sobbed out apologies, sorries incoherent and lost to the wind carrying the flames further up the building. Everything Marzia had done - she did  _ for her _ . Who cares if she was engaged to another man - she was doing it all to protect her city, her people,  _ her _ . 

She understood now what must be done.


	9. “love letters from me to you, in the future” - Soulmate Reincarnation AU - multiple - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This work was originally meant to be the concluding work for my “dead end” series. If continued, it will probably be its own stand-alone work.

\----- meets ----.

XXXX years ago.

In the future.

Now.

* * *

_ I first met you _

_ as Lilith _

_ in the Garden of Eden _

  
  


_ I first met you _

_ as Adam _

_ in the Garden of Eden _

* * *

“What's the name of this little place of ours?”

Mark asks while playing with the pale hand resting limply on his torso. They've been laying underneath the shade for hours now, too comfortable to get up and move - too uncertain to destroy this moment of tranquility. He stops for a moment and looks down at the frowning hazel eyes questioning, imploring for answers.

(He decides to ignore that look.)

“It is  _ our _ home, no?”

“Didn't spend all that time and money planting flowers for nothing, dummy,” comes Ethan’s easy reply. “Does it matter? The only name my home has, is   
  


_ Adam _

_ Lilith _

_ Marzia _

_ Felix _

_ Signe _

_ Amy _

_ Sean _

_ Evelein _

_ Ethan _

_ Mark _

“yours.”

Mark laughs - Ethan can't help but join in, too. 


	10. “Jekyll & Hyde” - Jekyll & Hyde AU - Marzia/Signe - M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan is a rookie lawyer. Tyler is a well-respected reporter. They interview a serial killer. That’s pretty much it.

**E** than Nestor seldom believed in second chances. One of the few core values he shared with his superior was their irrefutable sense of morality. His mother failed to instill in Ethan during his childhood the ability to forgive and forget when she rejected all advances his biological father made to rekindle their relationship . The whole ordeal left a very young and impressionable Ethan with the idea that people are not owed a second opportunity no matter what circumstances if one of the parties does not want to grant them that opportunity.  His recent employment with a legal firm whose policy also coincidentally happened to fall in line with Ethan’s morality only worked to force his ideals into his person.

Considering how many years he fell behind the likes of Mr. Mark Fischbach (a respected and oft revered lawyer) it appeared that luck was not on his side as his superior tasked him alongside a reporter by the name of Tyler Scheid to interview and evaluate the strange case of Wishe, a prolific murdered who targeted men suspected of being involved with adultery in some form or another. 

The entire ordeal left him with an awful taste on his tongue; the idea that someone out there existed and killed human beings that were in circumstances similar to his own biological father made Ethan feel an eerie connection to the murderer. Ethan wondered if something like this was a product of fate, bringing two similar souls together in an unlikely meeting.

That is how Ethan Nestor, with the company of the straight-faced reporter Tyler Scheid, were tasked with revealing the identity of the serial killer Wishe.

* * *

The entryway to the prison Wishe was held at had nothing out of the ordinary: a simple gray stale facility with no windows to the outside world, held in the middle of a plain gray field of dying flowers that haven’t had the opportunity to bask in the sunlight over the course of the cold, cloudy summer. The air of the facility seemed to freeze, dropping the temperature by two degrees and sending shivers down the spine, but was otherwise completely uninteresting, bland and boring, a melted dream of soft grays that blended into one concrete, uniform color. 

Ethan held his exposed hands close to his body, discreetly attempting to warm himself from the ever watchful gaze of his companion.

Tyler Scheid didn’t really have much of a strong opinion of his predicament: He was there to do a job, nothing more, nothing less. He projected an image of a stone, hence the nickname “Stone-faced Tyler” - his face revealed nothing because there was nothing to reveal. That’s not to say that he didn’t care - he very much enjoyed his line of work, thank you very much - but he made it a point to never let his guard down no matter the circumstances. The life of a reporter was never an easy one.

The idea of coming up close and communicating with such a prolific criminal nevertheless made Ethan’s skin crawl and Tyler curious as to what to expect. The atrocities Wishe committed against those men… 

Whatever the case, the duo pushed forward into the building and down to the deep unknown.

* * *

Four pairs of footsteps echoed in the dark decrepit hallway. 

Chains rattled against the cold floor, breaths too quiet to be heard.

A pause, and then a lock clicking. The door opened silently.

Ethan could hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears. Tyler held his breath.

A wild mane of blonde and brown curls bounced in all directions as its owner’s head snapped up. A shock of blue and green eyes greeted Ethan’s confused hazel ones, and at that moment it seemed like all time had stopped.

The creature---for she was too unworldly to be human, all of her human-esque features crafted by the hands of someone who perversed the idea of what a woman’s appearance was supposed to be---inherited all of the godly characteristics Aphrodite herself couldn’t dream of possessing. She had pale skin, for one, all tint and hue of her natural skin color gone from being held away from the sunlight for such a long time. The girl dressed in nothing but a simple gray nightdress provided to her by the facility and yet it did nothing to hinder her beauty, her slender frame hidden from wandering eyes . Her hair contained both a dark rich brown color closer to the root of her hair as well as a bright golden blonde that had a white undertone to it. Her eyes had speckles of a warm summer blue and an electrifying green, a strange combination that hypnotized. Her lips, full and a wonderful pink color, smiled up at him to reveal a line of perfect white teeth; cheeks tinted a dark pink, almost sickly in appearance, as if compensating for the missing warmth of her appearance. She didn’t appear to be frail or weak; she was  more like merely an illusion of frailty captured in a marble statue.

Everything about her was, nay,  _ is _ beautiful. Ethan had never seen a more otherworldly creature. His heart beat a million miles a second, all sense of morality gone. Nothing existed but him and this wonderful girl, her face lit up with the promise that something more beautiful awaited him on the horizon - a siren luring her prey. This girl had a melancholic look in her eyes that Ethan couldn’t ignore, and he felt a deep profound sadness down to his very core.

The sound of Tyler choking on his own breath broke the spell Wishe had over him and knocked him back into reality. One of the guards that accompanied them down to the cell  looked at Ethan and nodded as if saying  _ ‘I know. Us too.’ _

Wishe willed them all to pay attention to her again, promising a true spectacle with the very graceful movements she carried herself with. She rose up slowly, a rose blossoming before their eyes, and spoke:

“Hello, Ethan Nestor. I’ve heard so much about you.”

* * *

The first thing Tyler noticed when Wishe spoke is how she had two different voices talk simultaneously:  one appeared to be Western European while the other sounded more Scandinavian or Swedish even. The first voice had a much higher lilt to it, a soft whisper like a mother crooning to her newborn baby, while the second was deeper, and resounded much louder than the first. She sounded as sweet as saccharin. 

Tyler hated sweet things.

The second thing he noticed is how eloquently her syntax was. She spoke as if she were from a different era; her sentences were long but easy to follow if you paid her enough attention. While the police estimated that she couldn’t be older than twenty-eight, Wishe spoke with the same elegance as a woman in her late sixties or early seventies. The way she carried herself also suggested she was much more mature than her actual age. 

The third was how familiar she was with Ethan---she spoke to him in an easy-going manner, polite yet completely relaxed around him. It wasn’t completely one-sided either; Ethan subconsciously reciprocated the sentimentality, his stance guarded but unwary. 

Tyler didn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that, darling,” she whispered. “It’s been so long since I’ve talked to someone that I-”

She paused for a second as if someone had interrupted her, shook her head, and looked away.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done.” With a gentle movement she smoothed out her curls with both hands before resting them on the metal table they sat at. The metal chains on her delicate wrists; Ethan felt the impulse to tear them away.

He clenched his hands.

“You completed your duties, I guess I should do the same.” 

Tyler and Ethan looked at each other quizzically.

“Is it really that simple?” Ethan asked. “Isn’t there a reason why you didn’t reveal your identity sooner?”

“I guess…” she trailed off. “I don’t know. I thought that perhaps I would have been able to see  _ him _ one last time, but I guess not.” Wishe laughed.

“See who?” 

Wishe hesitated for a moment and reached her pale hand over the table in Ethan’s direction.

Her eyes had a very dazed look to her face, as if she were seeing something that happened long ago. Her mouth moved in a weary motion.

“At that time

* * *

_ while still in the pleasant dream in order to remain a girl she seemed, until the moment her dream was released, to _

Marzia gasped out in pleasure, her skin tingling from the overwhelming sensations of bare skin rubbing against her small body. Large arms embraced her over and over, washing her body with waves of ecstasy. She threw her head back in the throes of passion, feeling her partner’s larger hands massage her most intimate parts. Her own high pitched voice drowned out his low-pitched groans, her eyes squeezed shut in order to avoid looking at his blue eyes during this intimate moment.

Who destroyed the doll that that girl cared so much for?

Marzia felt another hand, this one smaller and more delicate yet firmer than her own, skim through her olive skin. Her brown eyes flew open; an electric green gaze stared right back at her, wild short chestnut curls floating as if the air above had turned to water. 

“Such a good girl,” the girl whispered in a low resounding voice not too unfamiliar to Felix’s voice, “will be cut down to a doll.” She smirked at Marzia with full pink lips similar to Marzia’s own, one dainty pale arm extending itself to caress Felix’s hair from where Marzia held him close to her bosom. Marzia couldn’t move; Felix didn’t notice.

“ _ I’ll break your chains for you! _ ”

_ I continued fooling  _ me _ , and I continued sending my desires for revenge to  _ me _. _

In that instant Marzia’s vision fluttered. She no longer was present in her body but rather was held prisoner in the vast nothingness and yet at the same time she felt herself feel  _ everything _ this life had to offer. She saw a white light turn red, and felt her body move out of her own accord. Her vision and hearing blurred, almost as if she were being held underwater. Marzia could do nothing but watch as the unknown woman took her own hands-

_ What are you doing!?  _ she heard her voice echo.

She heard Felix’s breath splutter, heard him choke on the viscous red liquid spilling from his mouth, as her hands penetrated deep into his chest. 

_ I imprisoned the malice and destroyed the cage, eroding reality. _

_ Is it a sin to wish someone dead, deep inside your heart? Will you destroy this heart of mine? If it’s an illness, can it be forgiven? _

Signe laughed at the vivid coloration that Felix’s blood left on Marzia’s skin. In the back of her mind she heard Marzia’s despaired wails and felt a part of her body tremble in terror and shock. Again she slipped back into Marzia’s inner mind and saw the woman float in the vacuum of emptiness she came from.

“I heard nothing about this!” Marzia cried. Even when faced with the abyss she attempted to regain control of her physical body; Signe simply laughed at Marzia’s pained expression. Marzia had blue and red chains around her wrists and ankles, and tears streaked her otherwise angelic and serene face.

“Oh my, did you not?” she teased. Signe reached out and grabbed Marzia’s chains with ease, pulling her closer to her own small body. 

They both had some semblance of clothing on even in Marzia’s inner mind; the billowy material of the fabrics that covered their bodies blew against the non-existent wind as Marzia’s body reached Signe’s.

“You’re still unhappy,” Signe informed her mourning companion. Marzia looked angrily at Signe.

“On what grounds are you basing that?” she demanded, hastily wiping her tears away.

“That’s because  _ this _ kind of you…” Signe trailed off, motioning to her own body. Marzia let out another inhumane wail at the implication.

_ I can’t even believe myself humans believing others is such a mad concept. _

“The betrayal of that man was not forgiven,” Signe continued. Marzia couldn’t drown out the other woman’s voice no matter how hard she screamed. “Isn’t that right?”

“But even so…” another her countered.

_ The one who gave this hypocrite and this criminal one body to share was you, wasn’t it, God? _

* * *

“One of the ancestors from Marzia’s biological father’s side of the family had suffered from a split personality disorder a little bit before their death,” Wishe interjected after a beat of deafening silence. “If I recall correctly, their name also coincidentally happened to be Felix and, as far as my knowledge extends, the personality that caused his death when he was in his late twenties or early thirties correlates to the existence of Signe (even if genetics don’t play a large factor in her sudden appearance).”

“Can you tell us the identity of your biological father?” Tyler asked, unfazed by the account Wishe had given so far.

Wishe tilted her head, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them and shaking her head in an apologetic manner.

“Unfortunately as of right now neither Marzia nor Signe want to disclose that information at this moment.” Another sad smile. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more assistance in that regard. I only bring it up because the death of Marzia’s father is the only murder  _ I _ instigated, and neither Marzia or Signe had any knowledge that the product of their, er, relationship had any semblance of consciousness to carry out such a task.” 

“So you’re admitting that you are completely unaware of his identity despite the fact that you have knowledge that it is indeed Marzia’s biological father that you murdered?” Tyler pressed. Wishe nodded.

“Yes, I am. I am only certain of this because Marzia herself confirmed that the person I killed moments after she took control of her body happened to be her father. I didn’t have any idea of who the man was prior to the murder, but I know that deep down Marzia wanted him dead either way so it doesn’t really matter I suppose who killed who at this point.”

“What was the motivation for the murder?”

“The same for all the other murders Signe and Marzia committed separately: the betrayal men commit against those they are supposed to love and protect. As far as I can remember, the man not only committed adultery against Marzia’s biological mother but also shamed her and cheated her out of her happiness long before either me or Signe came into existence.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Wishe shrugged a delicate shoulder, looking at Ethan pointedly.

“It’s too early to reveal everything at once. We have all day today and tomorrow and the days following today. I’m sure Marzia herself would love to tell you when the time arises.” Three solid knocks alerted Ethan and Tyler that their time was up. Wishe’s smile turned brighter. “That’s your cue to leave. I look forward to our next meeting. Reporter Scheid. Mr. Nestor.” Wishe’s strange gaze lingered for a moment; she opened her mouth as if to say something, but - closed it and turned away with an incredulous expression on her face, the gray chains silently following her as she moved gracefully back to the corner of the room she was previously sitting in.

Ethan thought she looked like a beautiful specter as he was ushered away.


	11. “DR: Social Suicide” - Danganronpa AU - Signe/Marzia, Signe/Ethan; TBA - M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original idea for a youtuber danganronpa au sprung up in 2016 at the peak of my obsession with the game. Chances are if I continue I’ll rewrite it with new characters and new storylines.
> 
> The following excerpt was taken from the unfinished first chapter.

**Chapter One: Orange-Tinted Glasses**

This body is sluggish, hesitant to move forwards or backwards.

Everything around me is dark, as if my surroundings are too scared to face the light. My eyelids feel heavy. Despite not knowing what I’ll face if I choose to open my eyes, I don’t want to leave this place just yet. 

It feels… safe. 

Familiar.

Born from the darkness must a new light come forth or whatever nonsensical bullshit some author wrote, right?

Even so…

To spend the rest of my poor existence here… 

I extend an arm out, and open my eyes for what seems to be the first time in a long while, hoping that someone--anyone--will take hold of my being.

From that darkness another hand takes hold of mine, and soon memories flood into my head and being.

My purpose in life…

That’s right…

I remember now.

Well, let’s get introductions out of the way, shall we?

My name is Signe Hansen.

My friends and I woke up one day with no memories of how we got locked up in a school as large as a city, held captive by a murderous teddy bear who insists on assigning Ultimate talents to the eighteen of us trapped her.

I’ve been assigned as the Ultimate Artist for my knack for digital drawings, although I’m not that talented in any other form of art. I’ve animated the occasional cartoon and had internships for animation companies… But other than that, I’m no one special. 

My assigned motive in this killing game is my cult following; even as the world burns around us, someone like me managed to obtain a substantial amount of people who worship me, who want - no, demand that I kill in order to escape and come back to them. 

…Really, it’s something so embarrassing that I don’t want to talk about it.

Trapped alongside me in this adventure (if it can even be called an adventure) are people with similar circumstances. Seventeen other celebrities, each with their own cult following, one more impressive than the other: an Ultimate Gymnast, whose enthusiastic can-do attitude and boyish good looks captivate the hearts of many high school girls and the nation itself; the Ultimate Director and the Ultimate Storyteller, a partnership duo so strong they’ve amassed millions of dollars in the film industry alone; the Ultimate Entrepreneur, who built herself up from nothing and rose to the top like bubbles in a champagne glass, the woman every girl wants to be and every would-be mother-in-law’s dream; and the Ultimate Philanthropist, a man who gives his heart out to charities every year and wins the world’s heart back with his charisma and confidence.

To be placed on the same pedestal as them, truly is a humble girl’s wish come true.

What should have been a peaceful life of love and friendship… 

“Huh?!”

…turned into our worst nightmare.

* * *

“Gah-!”

The first thing I saw was a blur of colors whiz past my face and settle into familiar shapes as my body slammed onto the wooden floor with a loud _THUD_. 

“What-! Where am I?! And what’s with this gaudy outfit?”

It looks like a classroom that fell apart in the middle of a jungle. There’s moss and plants flooding from every crack and crevice in the room, making the otherwise dull brown room a vibrant, lush green. A monitor hangs overhead with speakers surrounding the black, unlit screen. On the blackboard are fading etches of a forgotten drawing left to rot with time.

“...Why do I feel like I’ve been here before? This is some major deja-vu.”

In the distance, something crashes.

“Ow-!”

A muffled voice cries out, startled and in pain. My legs ache from disuse as I burst out of the classroom, eager to find someone else in this isolated building.

The hallways outside are similar to the classroom inside; plants, trees, flowers, growing out of anything their roots can take a hold of. Bushes and small saplings grow where floor tiles used to be. I manage to trip several times before opening the door to the classroom.

“What the hell?”

A man of average height stares at me, blue eyes squinting and arms crossed.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Ah- I’m sorry!” I straightened up best as I could, “My name is Signe Hansen. I’m the Ultimate Artist!”

“Hmph, at least you have that figured out,” my companion replied. He looked away from me, still displeased with our current predicament. “Name’s Sean McLoughlin. Ultimate Interviewer.”

He looks like he’s in discomfort. 

“Do you have any idea where the hell we’re at?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

“Figures.” He kicks over a discarded chair. “I wake up in an empty classroom and remember jack-shit of anything.” 

“Hey, did you hear anyone fall over? I thought it might’ve been you, but-”

“Is everyone all right?” another voice calls out. A young woman with blonde hair popped in the classroom, her bright brown eyes scanning everything in the room. “I heard something fall.”

“God, you’d think I’d be doing a performance,” Sean responded with an eye roll. “Are there more people here?”

“I think we’re seventeen in total, including you guys,” the pretty girl informed me. “I’m Marzia Bisognin, by the way. Ultimate Entrepreneur, at your service!” She shifts from one foot to the other with a nervous smile, her eyes darting back and forth between us as if she wanted to say something but lacked the courage to. She’s gorgeous. “I think it’s best for us to meet with the others. As soon as we get everyone settled and introduced we can begin to find out where we are and how we ended up here.”

“Fine.” Sean stalked past us with determined strides. “The sooner we get answers the better.”

I looked helplessly at Marzia, who offered a kind smile in return.

 _No, cross that she’s_ heavenly _. There’s no way she’s real._

“He’ll warm up to us,” she said. “For now I’ll help and introduce you to the, erm, environment here. I woke up much earlier than the others and thoroughly explored the building...” She linked our hands together naturally, as if it were no different than breathing air, and led me back through the green halls, her voice carrying a string of words intricately woven with care and precision, a warm beacon of hope. 

We walk out of the classroom together, her quiet chatter a pleasant tune. Sean is nowhere in sight, Marzia pointed out softly. The uneven terrain made it difficult to walk hand-in-hand, but Marzia persisted and held on, asking me questions about my talent and other mindless small talk. I feel my cheeks warm up at the gesture, she took time to be kind to me, and I knew it wasn’t just from the humidity. My lungs felt like they were filling up with water; sweat gathered and dripped down my face from my brow. The entire building appears to be overrun by exotic plants. All that was missing were a couple of wild cats and loud birds in this rainforest.

 _Good thing they didn’t forget the bugs_. Cicadas scream at us, a chorus of petrified souls shouting ‘Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!’

We pass by several wooden doors with signs framed by more plants. Two bright and well-kept doors stood out in a sea of green; I recognized the blue and pink signs as the bathrooms. 

“Is… is there someone in charge of cleaning up here?” I ask as we walk past.

Marzia tilts her head, her smile and eyes devoid of any sort of knowledge.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “When I woke up they were already like this.”

We trudge on. Further up ahead, two more hallways branched off into opposite directions and large double-doors with black writing greeted us. The hallways look exactly like the ones we walked past, more overgrown forests flooding the rest of the building as far as we could see, so we walk forward to the door in front of us. As we came closer I noticed it was just the word ‘Lobby’ written excessively over and over again.

“Are all the doors labeled like this?”

“No,” Marzia shook her head, “just this one. One of the girls I was with said that it looked like multiple people wrote on this door, since none of the writing style is consistent.”

“S’probably to let us know it’s a lobby,” another voice interjected. A young boy (he was so young, he couldn’t possibly be an adult like Marzia and I) laughed at his own joke and extended his hand to greet me, not taking any notice that Marzia still had a firm grip of my hand.

“Nice to meet you! My name’s Ethan Nestor, Ultimate Gymnast.”

I managed to reach over and shake his hand with my free hand without letting go of Marzia; one look at her and you’d think that the idea of letting go never crossed her mind.

“Likewise. My name’s Signe Hansen, Ultimate Artist.”

“We’ve met already,” Marzia smiled at him. “I was just about to introduce Signe to everybody else.” 

“Perfect! We’ll be her welcoming committee!” Ethan held on to my free hand. “Luckily you and the other guy with the weird eyebrows are the last people to wake up!” 

Together they opened the doors for me, and a gust of cool air nearly knocked me back.

Inside were fifteen other people, all with their own amazing talent, waiting for us inside. They stared at us with varied expressions, some looking at us with bemused curiosity while others didn’t bother to spare a glance at us all. 

“You’re late,” a tall man with the most expensive yet gaudiest outfit I had ever seen said. “We’ve been waiting for you guys for almost half an hour.”

“Don’t be silly, Felix!” Ethan waved him off with a carefree smile. “In a place like this, under these circumstances, time is just an illusion!”

“Even so, it’s best if we all introduced ourselves in order to figure out what our similarities are,” Felix continued. “If we manage to figure out the one key feature all of us have in common we’ll be able to find out why we’re here and how we can get out.”

“Eh? Leave already?” another tall brunette woman asked. “We’ve only just arrived. Even if our hosts’ intentions are malevolent or otherwise, it’s probably best to assume that we’ll be kept here for a long period of time.”

“It’s true, no matter how you look at it,” the woman standing next to her agreed. “But I suppose you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you, Ultimate Leader Felix Kjellberg?”

The tall man with blonde hair waved them off. I can’t tell if he’s flustered or not from having his name and talent revealed to me like that.

“This discussion can wait. What matters most right now is getting acquainted with one another so that we may avoid conflicts in the best possible manner in the future,” he ordered.

With that, the rest of the crowd watching the interaction unfold mingled around, some chatting more easily than others. Ethan and Marzia turned back to me, Ethan’s easygoing smile and Marzia’s sweet one making for a welcoming sight.

“Don’t worry about introductions! We’ve already met everybody, save for weird-eyebrows, so we’ll help you get along with everybody else!” Ethan said. 

“If you need help escaping from a conversation or getting someone to open up, we’ll be here too,” Marzia added with a wink. “Let’s talk to Felix first. He’ll probably want to ask you about the last thing you remember before coming here.”

“Oh, s-sure thing.” 

I felt nervous all of a sudden. Although my first impression of Felix wasn’t anything negative, I couldn’t help but feel like he was a domineering life force, as if everything he did he did with purpose. I didn’t want to intrude on him, but with Ethan and Marzia by my side I walked up to him with a weak smile on my face.

Before I could even say anything, Felix perked up at the sight of us walking towards him and greeted us with his own goofy smile.

“Hey! You must be the last person here. My name’s Felix Kjellberg, leave everything to me.”

Felix Kjellberg… The name sounds familiar, like I’ve heard it a thousand times before, but I can’t seem to place it anywhere. 

“He’s really famous for leading others to success,” Ethan whispered to me, sensing my confusion. “I heard rumors of him supposedly organizing and hosting huge donation events for dozens upon dozens of health organizations. Although he himself doesn’t make any profit from it, he pays all of his employees out of pocket and is heading the cause for livable, fair wages across the work industry. Not only that, but he has connections to CEOs from almost every field of work imaginable.”

“It’s because he was the one who essentially created those companies,” Marzia added. “Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”

I noticed how Marzia simply shook her head at his introduction with another one of her sheepish smiles. In a place such as this, she still has the time to express her emotions through those beautiful smiles…! She truly is a wonderful person.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t gossip about me while I’m still here,” Felix interrupted. He was looking pointedly at my hands interlocked with Marzia’s. He raised an eyebrow at her; she gave him a one armed shrugged in return. “I hope these two aren’t bothering you, Signe. If you’d like, we can talk some other time in private about your memories before you woke up.”

“What good would it do?” I asked.

“The only thing I’ve gathered so far is that only four other people here have any memories that possibly allude to how they got here. I still haven’t talked to a handful of people though so hopefully I’ll have time to see if there’s any common denominators.”

“You certainly live up to your Ultimate title.”

“It’s a gift,” he winks. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up. I’ll let you talk to the other people here.”

With that, he left. 

I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye before Marzia turned and stood in his place, finally letting my hand go so that I was left with Ethan clinging to my other arm.

“I know I probably should’ve mentioned this, but some of us here already are well acquainted with one another,” she informed me. “Felix and I are married, for example-” my heart clenched “-PJ over there and the girl next to him, Sophie,” she pointed at a couple with a noticeable height difference and curly hair, “have Ultimate talents that they built from one another, and they’ve worked with Chris Kendall, that man with the unfashionable bowl cut.”

“I can hear you, ya know?!” the man in question shouted back at us. Marzia waved him off with a giggle; at the sound of her laughter Chris scowled before turning back to the person he was talking to (a large woman I recognized as Kathryn Knutsen, the Ultimate Computer Whiz).


End file.
